iBreak All The Rules, Don't Want To Choose
by Mac-alicious
Summary: He loves them both a little, in different ways. That's what makes it impossible for him to choose. Creddie, Seddie. Rated M for implicit sexual content.


**A/N: **I must be in some kind of dirty mindset recently. First, I nearly complete a Life with Derek multi-chaptered story that warped a wholesome "Disney" character into a cynical, foul mouthed, jaded bachelor. Then I put a High School Musical multi-chaptered story that turned East High into a cesspool of sex and rebellion. And now, there's this: a, at times, gritty, dirty iCarly one-shot, with a premise not suitable for children or Nickelodeon (I cannot fathom where in the recesses of my creative mind that I drug out this particular characterization of Freddie). Freddie has some very similar, yet still very different intimate experiences with Carly and Sam. And of course, I'm the person who can't decide who I want him to be with (so he can't make up his mind either). I'm originally a Creddie girl, and really, I'm more inclined toward that direction, but I also totally relate to the appeal Seddie has. Anyway, you've been warned about the implied sexual content, if you've got an issue with that kind of stuff, why are you reading M-rated fics? Hmm? Lol, enjoy, vote in my poll if you would like to maybe see an iCarly multi-chaptered fic as my next project. R&R! Thanks! –Mac

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

**iBreak All The Rules, Don't Want To Choose**

Freddie loves them both a little, in different ways, he figures. That's okay though, because neither of them seems to really want him. And it's not like anyone is asking him to choose.

As if he could if anyone should.

O-O-O

A week before their high school graduation, he is in the iCarly studio with Carly. They are sunk into a pair of bean bags, which they dragged out into the middle of the room. He is reading and she is staring a hole into the side of his face. He's felt her eyes on him since she turned toward him, and while he tries not to let onto that fact, his concentration falters causing him to read the same three words in the same sentence thirty times without absorbing what they are. When keeping up the pretense becomes too difficult, he shuts hi book and sets it aside. He turns to meet her intense gaze, expecting her to turn away and make a transparent excuse. But she doesn't look away and it scares him a little. His heart beats in nervous anticipation because he can't decipher her expression.

Then Carly reaches out to him, running her hand through his hair and down to rest at the back of his neck. "I'm going to miss you, when we're all off at different colleges. I didn't expect it to feel this way—but I don't know what I'm going to do without you across the hall every day."

He doesn't have the words to reciprocate the sentiment, but when she presses her face into the crook of his neck, he wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

O-O-O

At the graduation ceremony, he gets lost in the crowd of robed graduates and is searching for one of his friends or family members. Before he spots a single one, a figure comes up behind him and elbows him in the side as it passes. A flash of blonde hair is enough to tell him who the culprit is. He clutches his side as Sam turns to face him.

"This makes it all real. You know that? I'm actually gonna miss you Fredweirdo," Sam says.

He is about to say something scathing in return when he realizes she is genuinely smiling at him. His reply dissolves in his throat and he has nothing else to really say.

The fact that she accepts the hug he offers her surprises him. The kick in the shin she rewards him with before she runs off, does not.

O-O-O

Carly kisses him slow and sweet one sunny summer afternoon. Her reasons why include wanting to remember how he tastes, because the last time they had kissed was so long ago. She doesn't divulge what he tastes like when he asks, but she tastes like the strawberry smoothie she had just finished before she stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk to kiss him. The flavor lingers on his tongue for most of the day.

O-O-O

He doesn't remember how or why Sam comes to kiss him, but there are bright lights, and music pounding and the smell of alcohol in the air. She kisses him hard and fast, her grip on his hair painful. The kiss is brief; the taste of smoke left on his lips disappears as quickly as Sam does into the crowd of people at the party.

O-O-O

It's Carly that he loses his virginity to, not long before they're set to leave for their Fall semester. She doesn't want to go to college a virgin and she can't imagine giving that part of herself to anyone but him. At least that's what she tells him. Whether that's the truth or not, doesn't matter, there's no way he is going to reject her proposition.

They wait for a night that Spencer is out and he goes over to her apartment under the guise of attending a movie night with all of his friends. When he enters her bedroom, he finds it drenched in the dim flickering lights of multitudes of candles, each safely enclosed in a glass holder. His nervously racing thoughts touch on the avoidance of being a fire hazard while maintaining the romantic atmosphere. All those thoughts are swept away when Carly steps forward from where she was waiting for him. She's in the same dress she was wearing earlier, her hair falling in the same messy waves around her shoulders—but in this light, in this moment the innocence her appearance usually exudes is replaced by something irresistibly sexy.

She approaches him tentatively, but she doesn't look as nervous as he feels. When she's close enough, she kisses him. Everything falls into place. He wants this as much as she does. He needs this as much as she does. There's no point in being shy or holding back, because Carly isn't going to. He wraps his arms around her, clutching her to him tightly. They make their way toward her bed. Taking the time to shed every piece of clothing, they memorize each other's bodies.

The buildup is only half as intense as the actual moment they come together. There's a moment right before his world explodes that he realizes this is everything he's been dreaming of since he hit puberty—to experience seeing Carly naked beneath him, her legs wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his skin. And it's perfect.

When they are lying next to each other, sated, tangled in her blankets, Carly turns to him to say, "This can't change anything. We're still going to different colleges in a few weeks. This can only be this and nothing more."

Then she curls against his side, falling asleep in a few minutes. He lays awake for awhile afterward, ghosting his hand over her bare skin and thinking. There isn't much more he could ask for than this moment.

O-O-O

It's Sam that lets him take her against the closed door of a bathroom with most of his clothes still on, and her dress bunched up around her waist. It's at a party, marking the end of summer and the start of their first semester of college, thrown by a friend of a friend of someone in their graduating class. Somehow, it ended up being just him and Sam arriving together to a party already in full swing.

Immediately after walking in the door, Sam heads for the kitchen, where all the drinks are being served, "Come on, Fredericko. If it's going to be just you and me tonight, I'm not staying sober."

He follows her around, drinking as much as she does, and soon finds himself sitting beside her on a couch. She is watching the people around them dance suggestively, and he is watching her. She looks so un-Sam-like is the thought that sticks in his head. He's not sure if that's because of the out of character dress and heels combo she's sporting or just his perception of her through his drunken haze. Either way, he can't keep himself from staring at her.

"If you don't stop staring at me Fredward, I'm gonna make sure you can't see anything until Christmas," Sam says suddenly, whipping around to meet his eyes.

He thinks it's her use of his actual name, rather than some warped or silly version of it or even the shortened version everyone else uses, that spurs him on. He reaches over to push the hair out of her face and leans in to kiss her before he can stop himself. Expecting her to slap him or otherwise physically harm him for daring to make a move on her, he pulls away quickly. But she doesn't hit him. Instead, she drags him to his feet and pulls him all the way upstairs. Halfway down the hall, she pushes him back against the wall and kissing him far more forcefully than before. Her hands find the buttons on his shirt and he grips her hips tightly with his fingertips.

Before he can properly respond to her, she is sliding away from him and pulling him down the hall again. Leading him past the already occupied bedrooms to the end of the hallway, Sam takes him into the empty bathroom. The door is no sooner closed behind them than he has her pressed against it. She forgoes continuing to work on his shirt, and reaches for his jeans instead. He hikes up her dress and guides her panties down her legs. She steps out of her panties as his pants drop. Lifting her up and bracing her against the door, he helps her wrap her legs around him. There's a moment when he's finally inside her that he realizes that Sam's letting him have sex with her against a door, in a bathroom, at a party, in some random person's house, with people probably no more than five feet away on the other side. The thought is exhilarating. And it's so perfectly representative of them—hard, fast, a little painful and crazy that it's even happening.

When it's over—she's pulling her panties back up, he's refastening his jeans, and they're both standing on wobbling leg—she says, "This doesn't change anything, Fredalupe. I still can't stand the sight of you. This doesn't mean anything."

Then she kisses him one more time and leaves the bathroom. He doesn't see her again for the rest of the night. It's probably better that way anyway. He wouldn't have anything to say to her if he did.

O-O-O

Winter break comes faster than he thought it would and soon he is on his way home with his first semester of college under his belt. He learns that Sam decided to stay at her school to take an extra winter session course, to everyone's surprise, and he's okay with that because it means he gets Carly to himself for the entire month long vacation.

Carly and he fall back into their usual patterns—talking about their experiences at college, their favorite professors and finals over smoothies at the Groovy Smoothie. It's all things they've told each other already but it's nice to tell it again in person. They spend a lot of time in the iCarly studio or wandering the city. She lets him hold her hand sometimes, but never more than that.

When Christmas arrives, they spend the obligatory time with their families and then go out together for their own celebration of the holiday. When they return to the iCarly studio afterward, Carly takes him by the shoulders and guides him over to a certain spot. He is beyond confused and opens his mouth to question her when her gaze turns upward. He follows her eyes and he understands. She has caught him under the mistletoe. One kiss leads to two, which leads to other things, which are more comfortable on a bean bag chair than he would have guessed before that night.

They take free time to repeat those things whenever they can until after New Year's when they have to part ways again for their Spring semesters. This time she doesn't add on a "this doesn't change anything" to her goodbye, but he's smart enough to know that it's implied.

O-O-O

His and Sam's spring breaks line up, Carly's does not. He decides to spend the week on campus rather than spend it being shadowed by his mother and her overprotective paranoia. He thinks the knock on his door is one of his dorm mates offering again to take him along on a road trip, but the figure framed in his doorway is far more surprising.

Sam pushes her way into his dorm before he can invite her in. She tells him she has a room waiting at some beach resort at a spring break hotspot and that he is coming with her. It doesn't even cross his mind to say no. It takes him less than forty-five minutes to pack a bag and get into Sam's car. It doesn't occur to him to ask how she came to possess this room reservation, or the car for that matter, and if he had her probably wouldn't have wanted to know the answer anyway.

When they get to the room, the first thing he notices is the spectacular view of the ocean, the second is that there's only one bed. Sam doesn't say anything about it, so neither does he.

The first night they drink with a large group of college students also staying at their hotel. When they stumble back to their room and collapse on the bed, he doesn't realize what is about to happen until most of her clothes are in a pile on the floor and she starts to work on removing his. After that, time not spent on the beach, or in the pool, or drinking with the other spring breakers, is spent tangled in hotel sheets. He finds that something about Sam in a bikini makes all of this okay.

When the week is over and she drops him back off at his college, she doesn't say anything. She just lets him out in front of his dorm and drives away. He thinks it's easiest to say to himself, "What happens at Spring Break, stays at Spring Break."

O-O-O

It is summer and it's going to be the first time the three of them are all together since they started college. He is terrified. He spends the first 36 hours back home locked in his apartment giving them excuses that involve his mother and they believe them without question. But when his excuses get flimsier, he knows he can't hide anymore. He agrees to meet them at the iCarly studio to catch up. When they're all there, they sit in silence for awhile. He contemplates speaking up first but the only things that come to mind are strawberry smoothies and smoke, exchanged virginities and bathrooms at parties, Christmas and Spring Break, beaches and mistletoe. And he doesn't want any of that to come out. In the end, it's Carly that says something first and what she has to say makes him feel lightheaded.

"We know, Freddie."

His eyes widen and while his first instinct is to deny, deny, deny, instead he asks, "How?"

"We planned it," Sam answers, "There were rules. We allotted time, scheduled, and placed boundaries. We put a lot of thought into pulling this off and there were very surprising results."

"You man, you _planned_ me sleeping with both of you?" He isn't sure if he should laugh or be angry or run away.

"Yes," Carly nods. "But it didn't turn out exactly how we expected."

"What exactly did you think would happen?" he exclaims.

"We thought you would _choose_, Freddie," Sam responds.

"But you said it changed nothing, both of you did. You said it meant nothing," he grapples with what they are telling him, trying to put it all straight so it makes sense, but the pieces don't match up and he is left even more confused.

"We thought you would argue fight for the one you wanted," Carly shrugged.

Sam added, "We thought telling you that you couldn't have us would make you choose."

"Choose? All this was to get me to _choose_?"

"Yes," Carly says again. "But like I said, that kind of back fired."

"Yeah it did," he laughs stiffly. "And here I hiding away in my room like a child, feeling guilty for hooking up with both of you behind each others' back and all along you knew everything—even better than that, you made it happen."

"We didn't make anything happen. We provided you with opportunities that you could have easily refused. That's where everything went wrong. We thought, at first, you would only go for one of us, and that's how we would know what your choice was, but you gave in every time," Sam explains. "You're quite the horn dog."

"Sam," Carly hisses at the blonde, and then turns back to Freddie. "We're only tell you this because our plan ended with Spring Break. And since subtle doesn't seem to cut it with you, we have to just come out and say it. It's time for you to choose."

After a moment of consideration, he says, "What if I don't want to choose?"

"Freddie Benson, I don't like what you're implying," Carly frowns.

"Mama don't share," Sam exclaims, "These past few months being the exception."

"It's just...I don't know how to make a choice when it's too hard to compare the two of you. What I got from each of you doesn't even reside on the same field of experience. It's like trying to choose between your favorite dessert and your favorite movie. You can't choose because you love them both for very, very different reasons."

"Am I the dessert or the movie, I'd like to be the dessert," Sam says.

"I'm being serious," he responds. "At least…without further information, I don't think it's possible for me to choose."

"Well, I suppose if we're treating this like an experiment, then I could be persuaded to provide a little more data, so to speak. That way, you can come to an informed conclusion," Carly breaks out into a grin.

"We do have all of summer before we have to make any solid decisions," Sam agrees.

"But there will have to be rules. New rules, More appropriate and specific to this situation," Carly says.

"Yes, we have to know the dos and don'ts," Sam nods.

Freddie takes a step back and lets the girls discuss their new plans for the summer. So he loves them both a little, in different ways. And until he absolutely has to choose, he's going to enjoy himself, maybe even break a few of their rules. There's something about the way knowing they both want him that makes him think this is going to be the best summer of his life.


End file.
